As a child
Aware of the infinition of possibilities around me
The multiverse
Like so many butterflies
Which ones do I go for?
Which ones do I catch?
How high can I jump?
Olympics or drug addiction
Polyglottism or earth roots
Banker’s wife or fire dancer
Golf or crystals
Who am I?
What am I?
So much to choose
Such shapelessness
I am a puddle reaching for a shape
The puddle reads, studies
The puddle get powerfully attracted
To Some Things
Doesn’t stop herself
Breaks rules and boundaries,
But slowly, oh so slowly
Starts getting an image of herself
How does a puddle even see herself
Isn’t she just a reflection of the sky?
The puddle solidifies
Searches for mirrors
Finds other mirrors looking for mirrors
Scratch that
Fluff like sugar candy
The puddle needs a shape
Wants to be named
Wants to be seen
But people just look at themselves
In a puddle.
The puddle starts to commit
Because shapelessness is too exhausting
And here come the acronyms
Here come the words
TCK, HSP, PTSD, BPD, ENFP-T, 9w8
Feminist, artist, wanderer, gypsy
I am French but don’t look it
Somewhat Native Argentinian, Romanian
No one can see it
I sound American but am not
I thought I was Jewish but was Catholic
Until I asked for excommunication
Half-Buddhist half-Celtic witch
I am fire, I am water
Child Sexual Abuse Survivor
Do we have an acronym?
CSAS
Politically bisexual
Fag hag, fruit fly, rainbow loop
Child-free, abortive
Léo with Aquarius Rising and Scorpio Moon
Chinese Snake
Western Queen
Warrior-Lover
Kinesthetic
I see words and numbers as colors
That’s a condition too.
Too many neuron mirrors
I can always find pain like a radar
I speak too fast
I read too fast
Then I become a blown fuse
Who am I?
I have many words
And I have many names
Many countries,
Many friends
Many languages
Many passions
And I still don’t know who I am
I threw words in my puddle
It was useful
But I still don’t know
I think the game is called
Jenga.
